


By The Lake

by skylinehorizon



Series: Best Friends 'verse [9]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Blind Character, Coming of Age, M/M, Picnics, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-03
Updated: 2014-06-03
Packaged: 2018-02-03 08:01:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1737275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skylinehorizon/pseuds/skylinehorizon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's a hot, summer day and Dean isn't going to let Cas stay inside studying. Instead, they go on a picnic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	By The Lake

**Author's Note:**

> Dean and Cas are both 17 in this instalment. Enjoy!

Summer has finally arrived, and with it endless days of sunshine. Dean decides he’s not going to let Cas sit inside all day and do work, and so takes matters into his own hands. Even if it means dragging Cas outside _with_ his books. 

He knocks on Cas’ front door on Saturday morning and waits there patiently until it opens and Anna is there smiling at him, stepping aside.

“Hey, Dean,” she says, still in her pajamas and her hair in a messy ponytail. “You’re up early.”

He grins at her as he steps into the house, wiping his shoes on the welcome mat. 

“I’m here to drag Cas into the sunshine.”

“Careful,” a voice says from the couch. “We don’t want our favorite little vampire turning to smoke.”

Dean gives a gives a quick smile and nod of acknowledgement to Gabriel where he’s sprawled over the sofa and heads up the stairs towards Cas’ room. He tries to avoid engaging in conversation with Gabriel as much as possible, based on disastrous past experiences. 

He knocks three times on Cas’ door and waits until he hears a shuffling sound. Cas opens the door, hair scruffy at all angles, but already dressed for the day. Dean peers over his shoulder to see his books spread out over his desk, and his computer open on a Word document.

“No way,” Dean says, putting a hand on his shoulder, giving it a quick squeeze as he walks past. “I am not letting you sit in here all day doing work. It’s fucking _beautiful_ outside. Sunshine and butterflies and everything.” 

“Dean,” he says, sounding surprised, but with a small smile on his lips. “I have a lot of studying to do.”

“Come on, dude. I came all the way over here to drag you into the sunshine.”

Cas walks past him to the clock that sits on his bedside table and runs his hands over it before pressing a button. It reads the time out-loud and Cas smiles.

“You’re at my house at ten in the morning, Dean. I’m not sure you’ve ever been awake at this time before.”

Dean rolls his eyes but it’s fond. “Yeah, yeah. Come on, you little hermit. Bring whatever you want. It’s hot out there though, and it’s going to get hotter, so bring water.”

“We should have a picnic,” Cas says, and says it so abruptly and in all seriousness that Dean has to choke down a laugh.

“You - what?”

“You said it was a nice day outside,” Cas says, slipping his sunglasses on. “So we should take some food.” 

Dean's so surprised at Cas' sudden agreement to just ditch his work and come outside that he's finding himself nodding and saying, "Yeah, yeah, lets get a move on," before he's even processing what he's agreeing to. 

A _picnic_.

 

***

 

Cas’ hands are quick and deft as he roots through the kitchen cupboards, knowing everything by weight, location and feel, and for the stuff he doesn’t know he holds it up for Dean to tell him.

“Is this barbecue?”

Dean looks up from where he’s making peanut-butter and jelly sandwiches. “Lightly salted,” he says, and Cas chucks it back in the cupboard before pulling out another one.

“Barbecue?” Cas asks.

“Yep.”

Cas puts it into the open backpack. “So that’s salt and vinegar for you, barbecue for me, you’re making the PB and J, some strawberries and two bottles of water. Right?”

“Right,” Dean says, wrapping the sandwiches up in kitchen foil. He puts them in Cas’ bag. “We’re good to go.”  

Dean drives them out to the lake by Faraway Woods. On the way, Dean lets Cas choose the music, which consists of switching between Bob Dylan, The Beatles and Florence + the Machine. 

Dean bites his tongue and doesn’t complain about the music _once_ because he’s an awesome friend and Cas is singing along to all the songs, quietly beneath his breath, but still loud enough for Dean to hear. 

Dean pulls up along a dusty road and they get out the car, Cas slinging his backpack on. Dean locks the car and walks around it to stand next to Cas, placing his hand gently on the small of his back. 

“You ready, dude? It’s not far.”

“Let’s go,” Cas says, with the small smile he always gets when the sun is on their backs and they’re outside in the trees and the fresh air. 

They walk along the road for a little bit farther and then into the trees, walking along uneven ground, sunlight fluttering through the foliage, casting shadows over their skin. Dean keeps his hand resting lightly on Cas’ back, telling him when there are any fallen logs or tree roots beneath their feet, and soon they’re stepping out of the trees and are standing beside the lake.  

Dean leads Cas a few metres away from the edge and they sit down on the dry grass, Cas pulling his backpack off and dropping it down beside him. Dean sits opposite him, and opens up the bag, taking the food and water bottles out. 

“It’s hot,” Cas says, running a hand through his hair.

“Here,” Dean says, placing a cool water bottle next to Cas’ hand on the ground. “Water.”

“Thanks,” Cas says, unscrewing it and taking a long sip. “This is nice. I’m glad we’re doing this.”

“Better than studying, right?”

“Definitely,” Cas says, with a grin. “Definitely better than sitting in my cool air-conditioned house.” 

Dean grins and takes a sip of his own water. “This is summer, Cas, you’re _supposed_ to be hot. You want something to eat?”

“Yes,” Cas says, leaning back and getting comfortable. “Break out the picnic.”

 

***

 

Cas is lying back in the grass, the hot sun beating down on his face. Dean is sitting next to him, his bag and their water at their feet. He’s listening to the sound of the birds and the insects around the water and Dean is talking to him about a dragonfly. 

“It’s greenish and blue. There’s a little bit of purple, too. It’s shimmery. And it’s pretty fast, and would fit on my palm.” 

“Give me your palm.” 

Dean complies without argument and Cas feels Dean’s hand stretched over his own as it lies in the grass. Cas takes it and draws a soft line over his palm, and feels Dean squirm beneath him at the sensitive touch. Cas smiles and withdraws his hand. 

“Like the size of a credit card, then.”

Dean sounds breathless when he replies, “Uh, yeah. Sure. Yeah.” 

There’s silence again and Cas relaxes into it, listening to Dean’s breathing and the rustle of clothes against grass as he moves to lie next to him. Cas turns his head in his direction and keeps his eyes closed, hidden behind his sunglasses. 

“You got further with Singer’s history essay yet?” he asks, breaking their amiable silence.

“Nah, not yet. Think I might just write something about Hitler.” Dean’s voice is closer than Cas expected and he sucks in a small breath, feeling Dean’s own breath hot on his cheek.

“Dean, that doesn’t really narrow it down. We’re studying World War Two.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Dean replies softly, like he doesn’t care, like he’s distracted. “I’ll figure something out.” 

Cas feels nervous all of a sudden and swallows, suddenly uncomfortable in the sticky heat. “I’m thirsty.”

“Hang on,” Dean says, and Cas feels him shift and sit up. Cas does the same and leans forward to grab the bag.

“I can do it, Dean.”

“Already done it,” Dean replies, tapping the bottle of water against his chest. Cas just takes it, knows there’s no point arguing with him, and unscrews the lid to take a generous swig. His skin feels hot in the humidity, his clothes uncomfortably clinging to him. He slides a finger beneath the collar of his t-shirt and tugs to let some air in but it doesn’t do much good. 

He slides his sunglasses off and hands them out. “Can you hold these a second?” he asks, and Dean takes them.

“What’re you doing?”

Cas just smiles and lifts the bottle of water up and tips it over his head, squeezing his eyes shut and letting it pour down his face and neck and back. Dean laughs at him and Cas can feel him move towards him, his face only inches away, when he says, “Pour some on me, Cas.”

Cas obliges, lifting the bottle up and pouring some into Dean’s hair. It drips down onto his own legs and Dean pulls back, laughing again. Cas reaches a hand out and pats Dean’s chest, feeling his t-shirt drenched in cool water.

“I didn’t aim very well,” he says, amused, and Dean chuckles. 

“Yeah you did. Reach higher.” 

Cas traces his fingertips along Dean’s neck and into his hair, which is dripping and Cas gives a satisfied nod. “Ah, success.”

“Yep,” Dean says, sliding Cas’ sunglasses back on him. His hands linger around Cas’ neck, stroking lightly, once, before dropping again and Cas almost aches for the missing touch, but still feels the warmth of Dean’s fingertips like a soft buzz beneath his skin. 

“So, um,” Dean starts, and then clears his throat. “We should maybe head back soon, out of the heat. Get some some substantial food, if you like. We can stop off at a restaurant or diner or something or just get it at mine. Mom won’t mind, obviously.”

Cas smiles to himself and lowers himself back down into the grass. “I don’t mind, Dean. Haven’t got anywhere else I’d rather be.”  
  
“Neither,” Dean replies quietly. “Do you want to stay over tonight? Watch a movie or something?”

“I’d like that.” 

They fall into a comfortable and companionable silence again, which is broken a little while later when Dean says, “Cas? Can I ask you a question?”

“You just did.”

He can feel as Dean moves closer towards him, their forearms brushing together, skin warm beneath the hot sun. “Smartass. Can I take a photo of you on my cell?” 

Cas sits up then, resting back on his forearms, and looks in the direction of Dean’s voice. “You can, but I don’t see the point.” 

It’s one of Cas’ one-liners that Dean always complains is one of his _totally embarrassing and not funny blind guy jokes_ and on cue Dean groans and knocks his shoulder. “You’re not funny. Can I?”  

“I suppose.”

“Good. Because I already took it.”

Cas smiles. “Of course you did. Do I look good in it?”

“I dunno,” Dean says, as if he’s contemplating it. “Your hair is a little out of place here, and it’s not a great angle for your nose, and ew, if you squint—“

Cas interrupts him by lightly hitting in Dean’s general direction, and it’s a win when his hand makes contact with something and Dean says, “ _Ow._ ” 

“What did I hit? Your face?”

“My _ear_ you fucking crazy guy.” 

Cas grins. “That will teach _you_ to take ugly photos of me.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Dean says, but Cas can hear he’s smiling. Cas isn’t sure why Dean would want a photograph of just him, but he’s long ago stopped expecting to ever understand Dean Winchester. 

Instead, he lies back down on the grass and lets the sun hit his face, and smiles again when he feels Dean lie down beside him. 

 

***

 

They start to make a move when they get too thirsty and too hot, and decide to head into town to get some milkshakes and burgers. It hasn’t been long since they last ate, but the heat has made them both hungry, and they’re eager to get something to quench their thirst in a place that’s got air-conditioning.

“Johnny’s Diner,” Dean says, pulling up outside their usual place. It isn’t fancy, but it’s got good prices, and is a nice alternative to Jo’s mom’s new place when they’re not in the mood to handle _Jo_. The jukebox is playing Chuck Berry and he feels like they’ve been transported back 60 years.

They sit down in a booth around the back, and their usual waitress - Lizzie - hands them their menus, before going out back to get two strawberry milkshakes and a jug of ice cold water. 

“You want me to read it to you, man?” Dean asks, flipping open the menu. It’s not often they get to eat at places with Braille menus, the only local place being the Roadhouse who had one made especially. Dean loves Jo’s mom, and decides the next time they go for meal they’ll have to go there, even if it is a little farther out and the air-con is always on the fritz. 

“Are there burgers?” 

“Dude - what do I even say to that? We’ve been here, like, ten times before.And this is a _diner_. Of course there are burgers.”

“I know we’ve been here before, but I’ve never actually had a _burger_ here.” 

“Yeah but _I’ve_ had burgers here.”

There’s a smirk on Cas’ face as he says, “I’m sorry, I must have forgotten seeing whatever it was that was on your plate.”

“You’re an asshole,” Dean says, kicking him beneath the table. “And you’re not funny. You’re lucky that I love you.”

Dean freezes as soon as he’s said it, but Cas just grins back and says, “The luckiest.” 

Dean’s saved from having a heart attack and getting overly flustered by Lizzie coming back with their milkshakes and water. 

“Here you go, boys,” she says, placing their drinks down. “Now, what can I get you for food?” 

Dean’s still trying to remember how to speak when Cas says, “What sort of burgers do you have? Cheeseburgers?”

“Yep, we have the _Johnny Classic Cheeseburger_ , or the _Johnny Deluxe._ The second is a double cheeseburger and comes with fries, too.” 

“Just the _Classic,_ please.” 

“Sure thing, honey.” 

There’s a pause, and then Cas says, “Dean?”

“Uh, yeah,” Dean says, and clears his throat. “I’ll have the same. But can we get some fries too, to share? Thanks, Lizzie.” 

She smiles and says, “Don’t mention it,” before walking away to get their orders.

Cas is looking at him all concerned and Dean tries a sip of his milkshake and nudges Cas’ foot beneath the table, telling him to do the same, because they’re especially good today. Cas tries his own and agrees, and just like that any discomfort has gone and they’re back to comfortable and easy conversation. 

The food comes soon after and Lizzie places their burgers on the table with an, “Enjoy your meal!” before disappearing again. 

Dean pours some of the fries onto Cas’ plate and then glances it over. “Okay - burger at two ‘o’ clock, salad at twelve, fries at six, little pot of ketchup in the centre.” 

“Thank you, Dean,” Cas says, picking up the burger in two hands and bringing it to his lips, pieces of onion falling from between the buns as he does. Dean watches him and feels heat wash over him again, despite the fact they’re sitting practically directly beneath the air-con and he hasn’t felt hot since they walked in here. 

“Here,” Dean says, leaning forward, once Cas has put his burger back down. He runs his thumb just below Cas’ bottom lip, wiping away a smear of ketchup and then freezes, realizing what he’s doing. He pulls back in a hurry and wipes it on his napkin before clearing his throat. “You, uh. You had a bit of tomato sauce on your chin.”

“Thanks,” Cas says, blushing, and Dean looks back down at his untouched burger, feeling his own cheeks grow hot.

Cas takes off his sunglasses then, as if he’d forgotten he was wearing them, and Dean swallows hard at the dark blue of his eyes. He tears his own eyes away, picking up his burger to take a huge bite. 

“So, what movie do you want to watch tonight, Dean?” Cas asks, picking up some fries. “I can always grab some from mine, if you like. I need to pick up some clothes and my toothbrush anyway.” 

“I think Sam borrowed _The Hangover_ if you wanted to see that. I mean, if it’s got AD on it. I’d have to check. Unless you have any other movies in mind?”

“I’m happy with anything,” Cas says. 

They finish off their meals slowly, enjoying their strawberry milkshakes and their cool corner of the diner as the afternoon lazily ticks away. Dean pays for the meal in the face of Cas’ pouting, who forgot to bring any money out with him this morning. Cas makes Dean promise that he’ll pay when they next go out, and Dean agrees, although he’s totally not going to let him do that.  

They get back to Cas’ as the sun is setting, the night losing its colour but remaining humid, the air sticky and hot. Dean sits on Cas’ bed while Cas packs a bag, watching him. Cas navigates around with ease, comfortable in his own bedroom, knowing precisely where everything is. Dean always finds it fascinating to watch Cas pick everything out, only slowing down now and then to run his fingers over Braille stickers. He picks out one of his DVDs and holds it up to Dean. “Just in case _The Hangover_ doesn’t have AD.”

“You got it,” Dean says. 

Cas finishes packing up and the two of them leave the house and get back into Dean’s car.

 

***

 

They decide to go straight up to Dean’s room and start their movie watching early, with the intention of getting a movie marathon going if they start early enough in the evening.  

Dean throws the comforter and pillows on the floor so they can comfortably sit on the carpet and rest against the back of the bed. He turns the TV on, before heading towards the door. “The floor’s ready. Just gonna go steal _The Hangover,_ okay?”

“Okay,” Cas says, resting his cane up against Dean’s wall.

When Dean comes back, Cas is nestled in the comforter looking cozy and warm, having changed into an oversized tee and stripped down to his boxers and fluffy socks. 

Dean smiles to himself and takes the remotes, turns off the lights, and settles down next to Cas, placing the disk into the DVD player. 

“I need to get one of those cool remotes,” Dean says, settling back. He flicks through the DVD menu to put audio description on, glad that it’s less common nowadays to find movies that _don’t_ have it.

“Which ones?” Cas asks. Dean can feel the warmth of his body pressed against his and his leans into it a little, relaxing. 

“You know, the Braille ones. Then you can use it.”

They’re quiet for a moment before Cas says, soft and gentle, “Thank you, Dean.”

It sounds like it means more than it should and Dean swallows, unsure what to even _say_ to that.

“You bet.”

The movie begins then, and they slip into silence, close together beneath Dean’s duvet. 

 

***

 

The thing about watching films with audio description is that it’s not always easy. It takes concentration, even when the descriptions are good, and concentrating after a long day of spending time outside in the summer heat makes Cas sleepy.

He’s currently curled up beside Dean on Dean’s bedroom floor, his eyes closed and head resting against his best friend’s shoulder. He knows that this closeness is only something Dean allows in the safety of darkness, and from the sounds of Dean’s slow and even breathing Cas thinks Dean might be asleep already, or close to it, anyway. 

He lets himself have this, even if he knows it doesn’t mean much. Especially not to Dean, who has always been tactile around Cas. There was a period of time when Dean was less tactile, a few years back when they were fifteen and Dean was dating Lisa, but recently they’ve been getting close again, Dean having no qualms about resting his hand on Cas’ shoulder or back to guide him when he needs it. 

But it means a lot to Cas. It always does. 

 

***

 

Dean watches Cas in the darkness, at the way he looks so open and relaxed, mouth parted just slightly. He had woken up just at the second movie had been ending, credits rolling and Cas drooling on his shoulder. He’d woken Cas up and helped him crawl sleepily onto Dean’s bed, and Dean had turned the TV off and pulled the covers over the both of them.  

Now, he’s lying on the other side of the bed, feeling wide awake. He has an urge to reach out and touch, to rest his hand against Cas’ warm skin, to put their hands together and sleep with fingers entwined.  

The realisation has been slowly creeping upon him for weeks now, but it’s finally hit like a tonne of bricks and Dean wonders how he could have been so _oblivious_. The thought makes his breath catch and his muscles freeze as he watches Cas sleeping peacefully, unaware of Dean’s sudden inner turmoil. 

The gentle touches of their fingers across tabletops, Dean’s hand on the warmth of Cas’ lower back, their feet and knees bumping together in the diner. Spending hours in each other’s company, Dean watching Cas as he lies back in the sunshine, flies buzzing over their heads, feeling like something has finally slotted into place whenever he’s around Cas, and feeling the loss whenever he isn’t there. 

Holy _shit._

Dean’s in love with his best friend. And he’s completely, and totally, screwed. 

 

_fin._

 

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry it's been half a year since the last update! In just over a week I'll have more free time, and I intend to get this series finished this summer, so the Best Friends 'Verse is back in action :)


End file.
